OK, fine.
Call me a weirdo. But I’m into it.
I need rings for the Scranton-Wilkes/Barre RailRiders. And I need them yesterday.
Sure, your SWB RailRiders already captured the International League glory. It was no contest. They fell down one-game-to-none in the Finals, and were three outs away from dropping the second game. Then, against Gwinnett’s closer…walk, walk, hit-by-pitch, walk, walk. That’s your ballgame. The rest of Triple-A is literally spitting up at the proposition of facing your ‘Riders.
From that remarkable victory forward, it was all gravy. Two straight 3-0 shutouts for the boys, and that’s how you capture a championship.
But they’re not quite done. Because, on Tuesday night, the RailRiders will meet the Padres’ El Paso Chihuahuas in a one-game battle for Triple-A supremacy.
I need this game.
Because sure, joking or not, this Scranton team is pretty remarkable. They’ve been the most dominant team in Triple-A all season long on the strength of their simply remarkable roster. Rob Refsnyder. Tyler Austin. Aaron Judge. Luis Severino. Mason Williams. Jonathan Holder. Chad Green. Luis Cessa.
Hey, what do those guys all have in common? Oh, right. They’ve been on the big league Yankees for the entirety of Scranton’s playoff run. So how is this team doing this?!
A major part of the whole team’s demeanor has been minor league free agent Donovan Solano, who you might recognize from the Yankees’ Sunday Night Baseball appearance at Fenway Park yesterday. That’s right; if Scranton’s gonna whip the Chihuahas, they’ll have to do it without another key cog. GMs literally never get credit for the minor league free agents they pick up to fill out their other rosters. And, well, it’s because those signings don’t totally matter. But occasionally, you hit on a perfect mentor for your future core, or simply someone who becomes so much of a force that he brings a winning attitude to the lower levels for aspiring MLBers to grow from.
Solano’s been a complete coup in 2016. .319 with seven homers and 67 RBI, wizardry in the field, and quite clutch. And why not? I’d rather be a RailRider than a Miami Marlin any day of the week and twice on Sunday (because kids get to run the bases that day).
And there’s still plenty of talent on the squad, even after the exodus. Clint Frazier’s showing off the forearms in the outfield, after all. Dietrich Enns was a literal buzzsaw in the rotation and ‘pen all year long, putting up another full season with an ERA under two as if that’s in the job description.
And, oh yeah, there’s title game starter Jordan Montgomery, who, all told, went 5-1 with an 0.97 ERA during his time in Moosic, PA. Despite getting lit up during Game 1 of the Finals, he proved he had the mettle to handle the postseason with a seven-inning shutout in the previous round. Can you tell I’m into this?! I’m into this!!!
Essentially, watching good portions of the Real Yanks’ series at Fenway this weekend has officially and eternally broken my brain. Every lead was blown. Every game was gift-wrapped. It’s, like, fine. The Yankees weren’t going anywhere this year. It’s fine. But, like, again, though? Really? Honestly? When Hanley Ramirez’s massive slam clattered around the center field seats Thursday night, I collapsed on a barstool, threw the barstool across the floor, and mentally declared it RailRiders Time.
So, until Tuesday’s over, I don’t want to see you talk to a chihuahua. I don’t want to see you pet a chihuahua. I don’t even want to see you consider going to Taco Bell. Yo quiero un freaking ring, baby. Let’s get this crown.
And then let’s bring the atmosphere to the Bronx next year.
